


Hibernation

by TheGreenCloak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, as in extreme fluff, safety nets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:26:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenCloak/pseuds/TheGreenCloak
Summary: Perhaps he was being silly, perhaps there was absolutely nothing odd about it. I mean, he hugged Hermione too, and Ron occasionally, Ginny when she won a match, Molly when he had not even quite gotten over the threshold, … Friends hugged one another, right? As did family, he supposed. Yet he could not help but think that there was something inherently wrong – no not wrong, rather odd, or off – about the entire Slytherin ‘crew’ being constantly wrapped up into one big mush of tangled limbs and sleepy frowns.





	Hibernation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueKindOfBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKindOfBlue/gifts).



Perhaps he was being silly, perhaps there was absolutely nothing odd about it. I mean, he hugged Hermione too, and Ron occasionally, Ginny when she won a match, Molly when he had not even quite gotten over the threshold, … Friends hugged one another, right? As did family, he supposed. Yet he could not help but think that there was something inherently wrong – no not wrong, rather odd, or off – about the entire Slytherin ‘crew’ being constantly wrapped up into one big mush of tangled limbs and sleepy frowns.

There had only been a few Slytherins who chose to return to Hogwarts for their eighth year among whom Draco Malfoy, as an unfortunate obligation through his probation; Pansy Parkinson, for reasons quite unknown; Blaise Zabini, who seemed to have simply followed Pansy and Theodore Nott, the only one who seemed to have actually come to study. Harry had yet to encounter them, however, in any other form that a big ball of fluff seated in their shared common room, taking up the entirety of the comfy couch. Not that he felt that they held no right to the comfy couch of course, but was it seriously necessary to occupy it every single night?! He thought not. 

Either way, it was always with a sense of trepidation that he made his way to the common room after and before class, whether that meant that he feared that they would again be there or not be there, he did not know. He crawled slowly through the portrait, as if the slightest of sounds or hurried movement would alarm the comfortable quiet of softly murmuring Slytherins. The scene he encountered was not at all unfamiliar to him, Parkinson sat in the middle, her lap covered by Malfoy’s soft white locks through which she stroked, who was in his turn spooned by a tired looking Blaise Zabini, whereas a studying Nott was balancing what seemed like a book on charms on the latter’s bum, legs entangled with Malfoy’s. 

And Harry suddenly felt this urge to crawl underneath Malfoy’s arm and ask Parkinson to comb through his hair as well – not that he would ever admit it. He tried to look away, but could not help but feel fascinated by the domestic display of affection. He looked over at the other side of the room where Ron was trying very hard to ignore the Slytherins and instead focus on his potions’ essay, but Harry could see his resolve wavering as his best friend snuck peak after peak at the odd ordeal. 

Harry dragged his bag with him over to where Ron sat, determined not to look over at Malfoy’s contented face again, where he sunk down on a cold bench and took out his own essay, a blank piece of parchment yet to be used. And of course the due date was tomorrow, he was buggered. Before he could just as much lift his quill, however, Ron elbowed him softly.

“’s A bit odd, isn’t it? I mean, I sort of understand that they want to show that they’ve changed and all because of- you know,” Ron’s voice wavered, “But this, I mean, not that I mind, you know, but-“ Harry laid his hand on his bumbling friend’s shoulder and nodded.

“I understand what you mean,” he whispered. Ron nodded in return before focusing back on his essay. They worked on it all night and never, not once, did the group of Slytherins move, apart from Pansy’s fingers waving through Malfoy’s hair, Zabini’s arm tightening and then loosing around Malfoy’s waist and Nott’s hand turning a page every now and then. Malfoy did not move at all and if he had not checked – fervently so – whether his chest was still rising and sinking, he would have thought him dead. 

 

Nothing much changed over the week approaching Christmas, everyone had grown so used to Malfoy’s clique and their peculiarities that nobody quite minded it anymore. They had conjured a second comfy couch for the other houses and simply left the group of friends to themselves, that is, until something did change. You see, it had always been Nott, Zabini, Parkinson and Malfoy, until all of a sudden Neville Longbottom fused into their bundle of limbs and they were five. 

And it was not as if Harry minded, of course he did not, he saw how well it suited Neville to be surrounded by Slytherins and he was happy for him, yet he could not suppress the slightest tinge of anger – jealousy – as Neville became more and more a part of their little group, often found cuddling with Zabini, locks caressed by Parkinson, hand held by Nott. Yet Malfoy seemed to be the only one to not notice their new acquaintance, and if he did he seemed not to care about him at all. It puzzled Harry beyond compare.   
He had tried to ask Hermione about it for if one is puzzled she is the most convenient friend to go to, but she too had not quite understood. In a way this reassured him for if even Hermione did not understand, then perhaps it was not meant to be understood. Harry continued to watch the little group however, from a distance, becoming ever more curious about how it would feel to be a part of it. Yet he didn’t dare to intrude nor did he think he was allowed to.

That is, until the group became even larger as George Weasley joined it, George who had asked the headmistress to work at Hogwarts and been granted a feeble position within the school system to come to accept the loss of his brother within the safe walls of his second home, feeling that his first was too depressing. He ought to not have even been allowed in the eighth year tower, but upon accompanying Ron to check out a new chess board or something he had stumbled upon the little group laying on the couch and he had cried. Even Ron had been taken aback as his older brother had broken down in front of Parkinson, Nott, Malfoy, Zabini and Neville. 

The only one who had not seemed fazed by the blood chilling screams of the lonely twin had been Parkinson. She had raised her eyes up from Malfoy’s hair for what could very well be the first time all year and beckoned the ginger man to come closer which he had hesitantly done, legs trembling as tears rolled down his cheeks. Not a word had been spoken, but somehow a lot had been said as they all made room within their tangle of limbs and created a cocoon for George lay in, couch enlarging on own account to accommodate them. Parkinson had laid his head upon her lap and started stroking his hair whereas Zabini, Neville and Malfoy turned towards him to envelope his trembling body within their arms. Nott had not moved much, merely entangled his legs with George’s and shifted his book, yet he seemed as much dedicated to the endeavour. 

That was several days ago and George seemed yet to have to leave the couch, constantly wrapped up in the little cocoon created by the Slytherins, but his face had grown so much softer, his brows had relaxed and his body had lost its tension. Nobody dared approach him, however, afraid to chill the warmth he had finally found. Harry tried not to think too much of it, afraid that if he did he would drive himself spare, yet there was something about those pale freckled arms wrapped up into even paler arms belonging to white hair and pewter like eyes that made him angry. 

Eventually it was Luna who released him from his own anxiety. She had been wandering around the halls, seemingly looking for something until she had stopped in front of him, eyes hazy as if they were not quite seeing him, but something surrounding him.

“Harry,” she said, her voice quite like a stream, flowing softly, undeterred, “You can let go Harry. Nothing bad will happen if you do.” And then she was gone, twirled away into a flurry of blue skirts and he was left to his own devices with his own turbulent mind to keep him company. It was not until he reached the common room that he understood what she had meant, he did not need to conform to norms, he was allowed to let go. The future would still be there tomorrow and for now it would do to simply succumb to his fatigue.   
He softly approached the group of Slytherins, afraid to make them notice him for if they did they might stop him and he did not wish to stop, not when he had finally begun. But no softness of feet could have guarded him against Parkinson’s attentive eyes who had rose to meet him yet gave no sign that they refused him and as he breathed out he felt all the tension leave his body through his feet, flowing back into the cold stones of the castle. She nodded and he returned the gesture before slowly lifting Malfoy’s arm and crawling underneath it, feeling it tighten around his waist as he laid it down once more. 

“What took you so long?” Draco whispered as warmth seeped into his body, relaxing every cracked up muscle. He did not reply for he felt that there was no need to do so, Neville’s arms reaching over his shoulders as Pansy started to brush through his hair. The war was over and he was allowed a rest, a long, deep rest.


End file.
